Another bit of a ramble (I love where it ends up), starting with this Time Q&A:

TIME: How difficult was it to chart a history of a massive and diverse thing like blogging?
Rosenberg: This is a phenomenon that starts small, then diversifies, then explodes at a certain point. At the small phase, it’s not that difficult to shape the story. The first part of the book is really a series of profiles of people — Justin Hall, Dave Winer, Jorn Barger — who were some of the key figures in pioneering blogging. In the middle of the book, my job became picking out the stories that had the most to teach us about what blogging was all about. At that point, the challenge became figuring out what to leave out.

You seem set on changing some of the popular notions of why people blog.
One thing I’ve become very conscious of is how careful you have to be making generalizations about bloggers. You have millions of people blogging. There are a multitude of answers to any question about what blogging is, who bloggers are or why they do it.

The author is Scott Rosenberg, the book is Say Everything: How Blogging Began, What It’s Becoming, and Why It Matters. It seems like an opportune time to reflect on where digital media has come from and where it is going. The volume of meta-commentary about the nature and future of blogging has gone up recently. Just about all of the mavens and A-listers wrote something-or-other on the subject last month.

Laura McKenna at 11D generated loads of response after blogging that

blogging has changed a lot in the past six years. It’s still an excellent medium for self-expression and professional networking, but it will no longer make mega-stars. It’s actually a good thing that the hoopla has died down. No one should spend that much time in front of a computer. The expectations were unrealistic. Use your blogs to target particular audiences and have a clear mission, and you’ll get a following. Blogging should be the means to another goal — a rough draft for future articles/books, a way to network with professionals, a place to document your life for your children, a way to have fun. Those are very real and good outcomes of blogging and that’s why I’m continuing to keep at.

To which Ezra Klein lamented

The blogosphere isn’t thrumming with the joyous, raucous, weirdness of the early years. And that’s a shame. But the upside is that it’s more careful. It reports and investigates and uncovers. My blog certainly isn’t as fun to write as it used to be. But it’s also a lot better than it used to be. And it certainly pays more. And so it goes. The blogosphere grew up and it got a job, or, to be more specific, lots of jobs. That made it less fun, but, like a frat house legend who now goes to work every morning, probably more useful to society.

I’m not even sure that’s an analogy, as Klein (born in 1984) and more than a few of the other big blog-turned-job stars are at the age when they’d be finishing grad school, coming out of internships, and settling into responsible positions anyways.

No doubt there are a lot of exceptions, and, as Daniel Drezner pointed out:

new bloggers are not exactly neophytes on their subject matter. Johnson was the IMF’s chief economist, for example.

So exactly how much of the professionalization of blogging is inherent in the medium, vs how much of it amounts to the professionalization and maturity of individual bloggers?

I say, don’t worry because more generations of unprofessionals will arrive soon enough.

For perspective, consider that just as Ezra Klein complains the blogosphere lost its “joyous, raucous, weirdness of the early years,” I imagine a number of older hackers and BBS and Usenet users complained that blogging circa 2003 lacked a particular “joyous, raucus, weirdness” of their earlier scenes.

(E.g. Jaron Lanier comes to mind. He made some remarks about blogging in that provocative essay of his, and apparently he still favours the old static HTML for his own site.)

Sort of as the Policy Blogger Class of 2003 co-promoted themselves into professional, respectable positions (read Rob Horning’s reaction), we might also see still-newer classes embracing still-newer platforms which established bloggers don’t see coming… changing the media landscape yet again, and disrupting Ezra Klein et al the same way they disrupted old-school pundits and columnists.

It won’t happen exactly the same way again. All I’m saying is that blogging will be vital for a long time, but certain kinds of blogging won’t necessarily be — because we’ll still have new classes graduating, hungry and irreverent, into a media landscape filled with opportunities that didn’t exist for previous cohorts.

Shortly before the policy bloggers got wound-up on the subject, there were already some high-volume conversations about the nature and future of blogging coming from more technology-oriented mavens.

Steve Rubel left blogging for lifestreaming:

Now that I have been at it for over five years, writing a weblog is starting to feel very slow and antiquated. It’s like a singles tennis player who focuses solely on the baseline game, logging long balls back and forth. The statusphere, on other hand, is like playing doubles – and at the net all the time.

Robert Scoble went the other way (for a bit anyways):

Whew, OK, now that I’m off of FriendFeed and Twitter I can start talking about what I learned while I was addicted to those systems.

One thing is that knowledge is suffering over there. See, here, it is easy to find old blogs. Just go to Google and search. [...]

The other night Jeremiah Owyang told me that thought leaders should avoid spending a lot of time in Twitter or FriendFeed because that time will be mostly wasted. If you want to reach normal people, he argued, they know how to use Google.

Chris Brogan struck a resolving chord:

I get this. I understand the interest in immediacy. The thing is, I think both are required. While I think there are several occasions where the instantaneous experience of the real-time web is compelling, I still think there are plenty of times when a well-considered blog post has some value.

There’s a difference between making a meal and grabbing a snack. Eating only snacks can lead to us getting flabby. It means we spend less time in deliberate contemplation. It means there aren’t as many places to exercise our larger thoughts.

[As long as these basic platform issues are unsettled, there's no telling where things will go...]

Come to think of it, there is a still-rising movement we should identify and try to understand more thoroughly: the general inversion of influence from top-down authority to bottom-up innovation.

Think way beyond media… Journalism is just a beachhead.

I.e. What would the world look like if, by 2015, digital platforms have undermined the foundations of higher education, or government itself, to the same degree the newspapers have been disrupted already?

To be continued…

[Note: I originally had the quotes from Rubel, Scoble, and Brogan before McKenna's. I made the edit moments after publishing.]

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Jeff Jarvis has been “thinking a lot about this lately: the need to risk and fail and not hold perfection as the standard of success.”

That’s a ‘perfect’ jump-off to introduce an important concept I’m trying to promote: generativity: instead of evaluating things on how well they accord with preconceived models and assumptions, let’s evaluate things by looking at how many unexpected new opportunities they generate.

Failure breaks things open and allows us to remix the pieces in different ways. If we don’t do this from time-to-time — if we just keep accumulating more mass onto the same framework — eventually it gets too bulky and falls on our heads.

It’s like forests that don’t have enough regular little manageable fires: eventually they get too dense, the ground accumulates too much dry wood, until one spark destroys thousands of acres without anything anyone can do to stop it.

This isn’t pseudo-profound stuff. This is just how life works — life outside the boxed-in board game version we’ve imagined ourselves playing for decades.

It’s like the shift from Newton’s physics to the less intuitive models of quantum physics and Einstein’s relativity: the new ideas aren’t as neat (and in many cases aren’t as useful) but they’re more accurate… and one day they will make sense and people will wonder how we could have been so stupid — just as we wonder how people could have once believed the universe revolves around a flat Earth.

That in itself is a good demonstration of what generativity means. Newton’s physics and calculus succeeded because it passed its DNA through generation after generation of subsequent discoveries, inventions, and ultimately a cult of efficiency that took over the world.

But now it’s becoming more difficult to stand on Newton’s shoulders. His ideas aren’t as generative anymore; they perpetuate more than they generate.

The technical edifice is so massive and sophisticated and dense that younger generations are having trouble seeing opportunities there. In science there isn’t much left that’s fit for Newton to explain; in engineering there’s plenty left to build, but the great challenges have already been conquered is largely gone.

The bridges and dams have been built, the moon has been conquered, the atom has already been split….

So we’ve been breaking-off Newton’s limbs and leaping away from the edifice to smash bosons, create ambient intelligence, and who-knows-what-else.

The new sciences address things that happen randomly, things that grow, things that don’t fit on the static grid: string theory, genetics, nanotech, etc.

Much of the new science — like the new economy — is not about layering subsequent successes on top of each other, but they are generative in the sense that they open up new fields to explore. They are adventures that could very likely fail to prove their original hypotheses but can’t fail to generate new ideas and insights.

E.g. String theory might eventually prove to be a “failure” in the limited sense — I suspect because it is tethered by what our math and mental models are capable of; we need to make some kind of conceptual leap — but whatever resolves the problems will be articulated by ideas that emerged by accident in the process of adventure.

In the process of writing this I remembered an older post (that should have been imported to this blog but doesn’t seem to have made it) about failing in a good way:

I just published (and deleted) a truly stupid post. Which is fine.

This blog is all about trying things out, challenging myself to explore and define new boundaries — that I don’t quite understand yet — as opposed to beginning (and then staying) within bounds.

Some of the best things are discovered by accident, and I wouldn’t want to miss out on them.

For example, a few days ago I was picking out random books and I accidentally found one about Henry Hudson.

I’d never heard of Hudson — or so I thought — until I flipped it over and read the back. Turns out this is the guy who lent his name to the Hudson River in New York, and Hudson Bay — and thus the Hudson Bay Company, HBC, The Bay.

Yes, he found the Hudson River for the Dutch (at the site of what is now New York City), and he found Hudson Bay for the British. For these accomplishments, Henry Hudson was seen as a total failure in his time.

Hudson’s backers weren’t looking for what he eventually found — nor even where they very interested after he found them. They wanted to find a route to “the Orient.” The expidition that took him all the way to (what is now) Albany NY was supposed to travel north of Russia, to China…

That obviously didn’t go as planned.

Nor did his expidition that took him into Hudson Bay, which was also supposed to reach China, although it did manage to set up one of history’s longest commercial dynasties. That expidition — and Hudson’s life — ended in mutinous disaster.

As we explore new ideas and new ways of doing things through the web, are we emulating Columbus and Hudson by “failing good”? Are we paying enough attention to the potentially positive accidents around us? Or are we more like Hudson’s financiers, who were disappointed that he never sailed over the North Pole?

Sometimes we react to these accidental discoveries as, “Oh well, I’ll take what I can get… could’ve been worse,” but accidents are aren’t mere consolations, they are the heart of life’s most essential processes.

Randomness and uncertainty are the keys to what we know of evolution and quantum theory so far — and, I believe we’ll soon learn, the keys to psychology and every related human science.

After all, what motivates us? What actually compels us to do things?

It isn’t perfection, and it sure as hell isn’t efficiency.

Even looking at the people who hold perfection in high esteem, it isn’t perfection itself that motivates them, it’s the challenge of pursuing it — and the sneaking uncertainty that they can’t attain it: it’s a dare.

Then there are the discoverers, creators, and adventurers who are drawn to the unknown — or rather, to what-they-think-they-know-but-can’t-prove…

If you take the uncertainty and randomness and genuine risk out of life (as in, risking oneself, not just other people’s money) you take the life out of life…

So why would we perpetuate organizations, rules, and systems that are based on the fundamental assumption that randomness and uncertainty can be mechanized and ordered into a irrelevance?

It’s the fatal flaw of both communism and industrial capitalism — not to mention fascism.

As a partial aside, I worry that our response to the finance crisis — “we’re getting it under control” — is simply an extension of the same defective ideas and attitudes that set off the crisis in the first place… like smothering a fire with wood: it’s still smoldering underneath, and now we’ve adding more fuel.

We’ve got a long way to go before overcoming these defects. And how do we get there?

I don’t know — but I do know that in order to move-on we’ll need to generate a lot of new ideas and a lot of new stuff. Most of it will fail — yes, but most of the stuff we have now is failing too… at least we won’t be sitting helplessly in the midst of collapse.

Ultimately there’s no single solution — nothing we can design and plan and settle on. What saves us at critical moments is a) luck, b) an abundance of options, and c) the ability to navigate uncertain terrain…

That last is the one that’s most in our control. Like any ability, it develops through practice. Unfortunately for most, by the time you actually need it, it’ll be too late to start learning.

The society that embraces uncertainty, nurtures a love for it (i.e. a love of learning) and develops institutions that thrive because of randomness rather than despite it, will eventually have the most success, generation-by-generation.

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There’s some good insight to be gleaned from this throwaway quote by Marc Andreessen (at Wired: Epicenter):

“Twitter was timed right: Two years earlier, or later, and it would have been a failure,” he says. “This is what our problem was 15 years ago (with Netscape).”

It’s a good following to the last post, about success not being exclusively a matter of personal (or group) characteristics, nor exclusively a matter of the environment, but a result of how those different factors interact.

It’s the same with ideas, behaviours, beliefs, business models, etc…

We all say we understand that “there’s a time and a place for everything,” but we also have a tendency to get into habits of assuming that a) such-and-such an idea failed in the past, we learned our lesson — “it’s wrong” –  or b) such-and-such an idea worked in the past so it is right, it’s been proven — “it’s right.”

It isn’t enough to know that something is right or wrong, we need to try to understand how and why as well; so when circumstances change we can adapt our ideas accordingly.

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A recent paper published in Science argues that our big brains aren’t what ultimately caused early human cultural development. In fact, it took maybe 100,000 years (give or take tens of thousands) for the human brain to find its mojo.

What was the secret?

Sure enough, when the critical population density was reached or there was a certain degree of migration between subgroups there was also archaeological evidence of modern human behavior.

“As population density increases, people migrate between groups more,” Thomas said during a telephone interview. “That increases the probability that any skill that’s difficult to learn doesn’t get lost or decay.”

Sounds familiar.

I’m re-reading Richard Florida‘s Rise of the Creative Class (it’s actually a better book than I’ve been giving him credit for) and — as any reader of this blog ought to know — he makes basically the same case (in my interpretation):

Density = Creativity = Prosperity

This is the theory that LDNbeta is premised on. In fact, this is the same general notion I advocated in the previous post.

Different people have different knowledge and skills, which complement each other in complex ways. It’s like we’re each a piece of a giant, dynamic puzzle. The more people we meet, and the more ways we interact, the more likely we are to find good creative fits that lead to bigger things.

“The basic idea conceptually is you can have individuals who are really great at inventing ideas and concepts and ways of approaching the world, but you need a certain population density to be able to have that stuff catch hold and spread.”

via aldaily

Update: Here’s much more from American Scientist (via 3qd):

Successive pulses of population expansion and contraction in southern Africa might explain why the Still Bay rose to prominence so abruptly across such a large area and then vanished in less than a millennium, and why the Howieson’s Poort began 7,000 years later and lasted about 5,000 years. For technological and behavioral innovations to be spread widely and rapidly, a cohesive network of social contacts is needed to promote the transmission of new ideas and inventions. Periods of population expansion of the L3 haplogroup could conceivably have created such a network and prompted geographically widespread trade and exchange of high-quality stone and symbolic artifacts across southern Africa. In this hypothesis, the gap between the Still Bay and the Howieson’s Poort represents a period of population contraction, during which social networks weakened or collapsed. The reasons for this calamity remain an enigma…

It might have taken another explosion in population size to reinvigorate this social network across southern Africa, resulting in the widespread transmission of the latest technological innovation associated with the Howieson’s Poort (backed blades for hunting weapons). This integrated, subcontinental network of hunter-gatherer communities was maintained for more than five millennia, but then disappeared about 60,000 years ago, perhaps in response to the population contractions and isolations identified by genetic studies. Similarly sophisticated stone-tool technology did not reappear for another 20,000 years—the end of the Middle Stone Age in East Africa—when there is evidence for renewed gene flow south of the Sahara.

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